


All Bets Are Off

by molossiamerica (afjakwrites)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: High School AU, M/M, Punk Arthur, every 2000's high school movie ever lmao, extremely cliche, jock alfred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afjakwrites/pseuds/molossiamerica
Summary: Arthur Kirkland hates the popular crowd - especially World Academy’s all-American golden boy, Alfred Jones. But after being roped into betting that he can make Alfred like him, Arthur may find himself having a change of heart.





	All Bets Are Off

“I don’t understand what your problem with them is, Arthur,” says Francis, taking a grape off of his plastic tray and tossing it in the direction of Arthur’s face.

The Brit in question slaps the offending fruit away, rolls his eyes, and replies, “They’re ridiculous, shallow, self-centered, and obnoxious. Why wouldn’t I have a problem with them?”

Gilbert laughs and pops another fry into his mouth. “You’re right about some of ‘em, but some are pretty cool. ‘Sides, Ludwig hangs out with that crowd and he’s cool, isn’t he? They’re just people that are more popular than others. It’s not like they’re aliens or something.”

“Ludwig is an exception,” says Arthur with a bitter frown set upon his face, choosing to ignore the rest of Gilbert’s words in favor of glaring disdainfully in the direction of World Academy’s resident “popular” crowd.

Currently, the large bunch was gathered around two or three round tables, eating and talking loudly. In his mind, Arthur conjured up all sorts of idiotic subjects that they could be talking about; the next football game, cheerleading tryouts, who was seeing who that week. Whatever it was, Arthur was certain that it wasn’t anything intelligent or meaningful. It had been clear since Arthur had started school at the World Academy that all of the particularly popular students at World Academy were absolute airheads. Although the academy, based in England, was well-known for their international scouting for students with “potential”, Arthur found it hard to believe that many of the more popular international students were truly representative of the intelligence the academy sought, and rather had rich parents who had bought their children’s way into the academy.

“Well, one thing’s for sure: they’re all exceptionally good-looking,” chimes Elizaveta from her place at Gilbert’s side, his arm lazily slung across her shoulders.

“Yeah, especially Lovino Vargas,” says Antonio, gazing dreamily in the direction of the aforementioned Italian boy, who appeared to be scolding his twin brother, Feliciano, about something while stabbing a plastic fork into his tupperware containing pasta.

Arthur scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Hah! I can’t see a single attractive person over there,” he said, turning his eyes away from the table when Kiku Honda turned a bit and met his gaze by accident.

“That’s because Alfred hasn’t arrived yet,” said Francis with a sultry smile.

Arthur groans aloud at the mere mention of Alfred. “God, he’s the worst out of them all. I’ve never met someone so stupid in my entire life.”

“Speak of the devil,” said Antonio, gazing past Arthur and toward the lunchroom entrance.

Arthur turned just enough to look over his shoulder as none other than World Academy’s golden boy, Alfred Jones, stepped into the lunchroom. His shiny, perfectly white teeth had formed a brilliant smile upon his handsome face as he waved happily to his friends. Arthur huffed and turned away, shaking his head.

“He thinks he’s the most important person here simply because he plays football. And he doesn’t even play the right football,” Arthur lamented.

“I find your distaste for him disappointing, Arthur. I’ve always thought you two would make a fantastic couple.” Replied Francis nonchalantly, although there was a bit of seriousness in his eyes.

Elizaveta perked up, clearly having been bored with the conversation until Francis’ addition. “Oh, you two would be so cute together! The height difference, the contrast in your personalities—it would be amazing!” She added excitedly.

Arthur shot a glare at both Elizaveta and Francis. “God, I can’t believe you’d even say that. As if I’d ever date someone that stupid.”

“Aw, I don’t see why you don’t give it a shot. Francis is never wrong about this stuff.” Antonio reasoned, nudging the French boy with his elbow. “What do you think of Lovino and I?”

Francis nodded sagely, as if thinking seriously. “The chances of him agreeing to a date are slim, but you two would make a good couple. As far as you’re concerned, Arthur, you should follow my advice. Antonio is right about me always being right.” The man said with a laugh.

Arthur rolled his eyes once again. “I think not. I have no interest in that moron.”

“Or maybe you’re just too scared to ask him out ‘cause you think he’ll reject you.” Replied Elizaveta with a knowing smirk.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I’m not afraid of anything, least of all an obnoxious twit like Alfred Jones.”

“Oh? Then I bet you ten dollars that you won’t go ask him out.” Antonio said, his unnaturally red eyes sparkling with mischief and his lips parted in a smug smile.

Arthur’s eyes widened, large brows shooting up. “Fuck off,Carriedo.”

“Someone’s scared,” Antonio chimed, laughing loudly. The rest of the table joined in, laughing at Arthur’s supposed cowardice.

The Brit felt his pale cheeks heating up with anger and embarrassment and pushed himself out of his seat. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll take you up on your idiotic bet only to prove that I don’t give a damn what Alfred thinks of me. But your matchmaking scheme won’t go any further—he’s far too shallow to go out with someone like me,” the Brit huffed before turning on his heel and marching purposefully in the direction of the popular crowd.

Once he reached Alfred’s table, Arthur stopped behind Alfred and folded his arms across his chest. “Jones,” he said, making the American turn with a start.

“Yeah?” Alfred asked, blue eyes meeting green.

For a moment, Arthur was stunned into silence by the beauty Alfred possessed—he’d always known the American was handsome (even if he wouldn’t admit it), but up close he was even more handsome than Arthur had originally thought. Then, regaining his composure, Arthur willed the heat off of his cheeks and cleared his throat.

“I want to take you to dinner at eight this Saturday. What do you say?”

The rest of Alfred’s table had fallen silent and was now watching, most with wide eyes and open mouths. Arthur shot the rest of the table a smirk and looked to Alfred, expecting a similar reaction from Alfred. Instead, he was surprised to find the American looking up at him with his tan cheeks slightly flushed.

“Like, a date?” Alfred asked, surprised.

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes, finding Alfred’s question a perfect example of the American’s stupidity. However, he forced a charming smile onto his face and nodded. “Exactly.”

Alfred’s mouth twisted in a sheepish smile. “Sure,” he replied, seeming genuinely flustered. “Uh—do you want my number?”  
  
Arthur floundered, completely astounded. He hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Alfred would say yes, completely sure that Alfred was too shallow and judgemental to date someone that wasn’t popular. Arthur felt his pale cheeks going red and he nodded dumbly. When Alfred reached for his hand, his brain short-circuited and he allowed the American to scribble his phone number down in sharpie across the top of his hand. When Alfred was finished, Arthur turned on his heel and walked away without a word, dropping down into his seat at his table with his eyes still widened.

Immediately, his entire table collapsed into loud laughter. Antonio even applauded Arthur before slapping a ten dollar bill down in front of him.

“Looks like Arthur’s got a date!” Gilbert laughed.

Still flushed, Arthur glared harshly at all of his friends. “Sh-Shut up, all of you! Why the hell did he say yes?!”

“Maybe he’s not as shallow as you think.” Francis suggested.

“Yeah, Arthur. Everyone I know thinks he’s a really good guy,” Antonio said, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, God,” Arthur groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Now I have to go out with him. God, what am I going to do?”

“Find something in your closet without spikes or holes, for starters,” Francis said teasingly, gaining the laughter of the rest of the group.

“Shut up, frog.”

“Bet you won’t ask him out again after the first date,” Gilbert chimed with a laugh.

“God, no. I’m not making another bet with you, Gilbert. I’ll hardly be able to endure one date with him, let alone two.”

“Oh? Someone’s definitely scared. We all saw how much you were blushing, Arthur—you obviously like him. I’ll bet you won’t ask him for another date ‘cause you’re scared you’ll want another after that.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Arthur huffed, lifting his head from its place in his palms to glare hashly at his friends. “I don’t like him at all! You four made me ask him!”

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks you won’t ask him for a second date because you’re scared you’ll like him.” Elizaveta said, ignoring Arthur’s protests completely.

“I’ll bet you forty you won’t ask for a third.” Chimed Francis with a smug smile stuck upon his handsome face.

“I’m not fucking scared of Alfred, damn it! I know for a fact that I won’t like him, and I’ll prove it! You idiots may be charmed by him, but a stupid grin and a nice body aren’t enough to charm me. I’ll take you both up on your offers. Easiest sixty dollars I’ll ever make.” Said Arthur bitterly, his cheeks red.

“Wanna make eighty?” Gilbert asked. “I’ll bet you another twenty you can’t get him to admit that he likes you at some point within those dates.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Arthur said. “He’s an idiot—I’ll just spout some cheesy romantic words at him and he’ll probably fall into my arms.”

Francis merely rolled his eyes and then looked to Elizaveta, winking.

* * *

After enduring two days worth of grammatically incorrect, emoji-ridden texts from Alfred, it was Saturday night and Arthur was waiting outside Alfred’s door, tapping his foot on the concrete patio with his arms folded across his chest and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He’d rung the doorbell once already and was about to ring it again when the door swung open and Alfred appeared.

“Hi, Arthur,” he said, smiling sweetly. “Woah, you smoke?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied simply. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I just have to grab my jacket. You wanna come in for a second while I get it?”

Arthur took the cigarette from his lips and let it drop to the ground, smashing it beneath the heel of his black boot. Then, he stepped into Alfred’s immaculate home and glanced around, actively resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he often did. As he expected, the walls were littered with cheesy school pictures of Alfred, as well as several photos of Alfred with two women, one of whom looked incredibly similar to Alfred, along with a much younger boy who also bore a striking resemblance to Alfred.

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred said before stepping out of the room, leaving Arthur alone in his expansive living room.

Despite himself, Arthur found that he was somewhat curious about Alfred’s home—if only for the sake of proving that Alfred was spoiled, he assured himself—and he stepped further into the room. Pictures littered every available wall, and Arthur slowly made his way around the room, gazing at smiling face upon smiling face with mounting interest. There were many pictures to be certain, and most looked to be professional quality, but Arthur hadn’t seen a single photo of Alfred under the age of what Arthur guessed to be around thirteen or foruteen years old. It seemed odd that a family who was clearly so fond of pictures wouldn’t have any of their eldest son as a young child.

“My moms are both photographers,” came Alfred’s voice from behind Arthur, startling the Brit.

Arthur turned around and offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was just—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Alfred quickly interrupted with a shake of his head and a sincere, sweet smile.

“Is that your little brother?” Arthur questioned.

“Yep! That’s Matthew. He’s seven.”

Arthur nodded. “He’s cute.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“Where are you?” Said Arthur then, unable to help himself.

Alfred blinked. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no pictures of you as a child. You look like you’re at least thirteen in all of these.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Alfred’s face seemed to fall somewhat and then he brought a hand to the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. “We, uh, we don’t have any pictures of me as a kid.”

“Why?” Asked Arthur again, far too curious to restrain himself.

“My birth parents never took any, I guess.” Alfred replied with a shrug. “They weren’t, uh, super fond of me.”

It was these words that finally caused Arthur to close his mouth, staring at Alfred in wide-eyed shock. Then, regaining his composure and feeling terribly embarrassed about his rude behavior, he took a step closer. “I’m sorry, Alfred, I… I had no idea.”

“That’s alright,” Alfred said, shaking his head. His usual happy smile returned to his face and he nodded toward the front door. “Should we go?”

Eager to get out of Alfred’s house and forget about his insensitive prying, Arthur agreed. He’d parked his car in Alfred’s driveway to take them to the restaurant, but Alfred asked if he wanted to walk instead seeing as it was such a beautiful night. Knowing that the walk would only make their date even longer, Arthur had half a mind to insist on his car, but there was something about the glint in Alfred’s bright eyes when he looked up at the sky that made Arthur agree against his better judgement.

Thus, they started the walk to the restaurant. Alfred was quick to engage Arthur in conversation, asking question after question about the Brit’s family, his hobbies, what he liked and disliked. At first, Arthur was annoyed by the seemingly incessant questions, but as he offered more information to the American, he found himself genuinely enjoying being able to speak to someone as cheerful as Alfred. No matter how negative his words were, Alfred bounced back with a happy spin on Arthur’s words. Before Arthur knew it, they’d arrived at the restaurant and he was being led to a booth toward the back, which was somewhat secluded and separated from the rest of the other patrons.

“Can I ask you something?” Alfred asked after they’d gotten their drinks and the waitress had left to give them time to look over the menu.

Arthur raised one thick eyebrow and lowered his menu to meet Alfred’s eyes. “Go ahead.”

“Why’d you ask me out? I mean, not that I’m not glad you did, it’s just—we don’t really talk much or anything, so…”

Arthur paused, thinking nervously back to the bet. “Er…” He trailed off momentarily, racking his brain for any response that wouldn’t give himself away. “W-Well, you’re just… You’re different than most of the people I know, and I find you interesting.”

Alfred’s cheeks turned a bit pink, and Arthur was surprised to find that rather than finding the American’s gullibility completely stupid, he thought the sweet flush was actually somewhat endearing. “Oh, well, thanks. You’re much more interesting than me, though.”

“What’s interesting about me?” Arthur asked, surprised. It seemed Alfred wasn’t quite as egotistical as he’d originally thought.

“I dunno, you’re just… I mean, you obviously don’t care what anybody else thinks as long as you’re happy. It’s really cool that you’re brave enough to do what you want and not be worried about other people’s opinions. And you’re, like, the top of our class in English and Literature even though you skip class all the time. You’re obviously super smart, but you also know how to have fun.”

Arthur blinked incredulously. He could hardly believe Alfred was capable of such perceptivity, let alone kind enough to say such things so freely. It made him feel a bit guilty about saying such rude things about Alfred earlier in the week, but he quickly shook such thoughts from his head. They’d only been talking for about thirty minutes—the night was still young, and filled with opportunities for Alfred to prove himself to be as shallow and idiotic as Arthur expected.

But, as the night wore on, Alfred only proved himself to be the opposite. Despite repeatedly reminding himself not to fall for superficial charm, Arthur found himself entirely involved in Alfred by the end of the night, smiling and laughing all the way home. He found that he was actually interested not only in sharing information about himself, but hearing what Alfred had to say as well. As they walked home, he asked Alfred about his hobbies, his interests, his family, and found himself sincerely interested in the answers.

By the time they reached Alfred’s house at the end of the night, it had been three hours, but Arthur could hardly believe it had been twenty minutes. Time had passed so easily with the cheerful boy beside him, he couldn’t help but to be sad to go.

“I had a lot of fun tonight, Arthur,” Alfred said, standing beside Arthur’s car.

“Me too,” Arthur said in return, finding to his shock that he sincerely meant it. Then, remembering the rest of the bet, he quickly added, “perhaps we can do it again next weekend.”

Alfred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that’d be great. The carnival starts next Friday, if you wanna…?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Cool. This time I’ll pick you up, okay? Six?”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed, smiling up into Alfred’s face.

“Sweet. I’ll see you then, Arthur.” Alfred said, turning away.

“Alfred, wait!” Arthur exclaimed, reaching out to take the sleeve of Alfred’s jacket in his hand.

Alfred blinked, clearly surprised by the outburst. He’d opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Arthur stopped him by pulling him down a bit to press their lips together. Alfred hesitated only a second before his eyes closed and he wrapped his arms around Arthur, tugging the shorter boy closer to him. Arthur slipped his arms around Alfred’s neck and lost himself, his knees going weak at the feeling of Alfred’s strong arms around his waist, their chests pressed against each other, Alfred’s mouth against his, kissing him expertly.

When they finally pulled apart to breathe, Arthur was red in the face and had to resist the urge to tug Alfred back into him immediately.

Alfred grinned. “See you  next Friday,” he said cheekily, turning on his heel and sauntering inside.

Once Alfred was gone, Arthur got into his car and slumped against the steering wheel, groaning aloud to himself. Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

* * *

The following Monday, Arthur’s friends bombarded him with questions about his date all day. Arthur adamantly refused to give up much information and feigned complete disinterest in Alfred, stating that his company was hardly tolerable and that he spent the majority of the night talking about himself and his football career. He claimed to have absolutely no attraction to Alfred at all and whined at length about how torturous their second date was going to be.

Internally, he scolded himself, willing himself to believe that what he was saying was true. The memory Alfred’s sweet smiles, his gorgeous blue eyes so sincerely filled with interest, the feeling of his soft lips against Arthur’s, had plagued him. He wanted more than anything to go back to how he’d been before, blindly hating Alfred, and vowed to put up a front of indifference when he saw Alfred on Friday.

However, Arthur hadn’t counted on the possibility that Alfred would have no problem speaking to him at school. That day at lunch, and for every day after, Alfred stopped by Arthur’s table to say ‘hi’ and catch up for a moment before he headed to his own table. Not only was the younger boy cheerful and friendly toward Arthur, but with everyone at Arthur’s table. He laughed and joked with the whole group, and even managed to get Lovino to agree to giving Antonio his phone number. Arthur was appalled at how quickly his friends took to Alfred, all of them singing his praises whenever he left. Internally, Arthur agreed, but he insisted to his friends that they shouldn’t get too attached to the young American as he was already eagerly awaiting the end of their third date and never having to see him again.

By the time Friday rolled around, Arthur had promised himself that he wouldn’t get any more attached to Alfred than he already was. Alfred picked him up at six on the dot and they rode to the carnival in relative silence, aside from the music playing quietly from Alfred’s radio and the American singing along quietly. Arthur couldn’t help but to find Alfred’s sweet singing entirely too endearing, and forced himself to tune the American out the whole ride.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?” Arthur blinked and looked up from his position peering out the car window, noting that Alfred was gazing expectantly at him.

“I asked whether you wanted me to get you a wristband or individual tickets. Are you okay?” Alfred asked.

The sincere concern in his eyes making Arthur feel a bit guilty about being standoffish. Even so, Arthur knew he couldn’t risk growing any closer to Alfred and so he made a face and shook his head.

“Truthfully, Alfred, I don’t think I’m feeling all that well.” Arthur lied.

“Oh. No worries, Artie, I’ll take you home. We can do this when you’re feeling better. You know you didn’t have to pretend to be okay, right? I wouldn’t be mad.”  Alfred said with an easy smile.

“I know, I just wanted to see if I would feel better by the time we got here. I-I was looking forward to it,” Arthur admitted, convincing himself he’d only said it to flatter Alfred.

“I was too, but it’s no big deal. The fair will be open next weekend too, and I don’t want to drag you around and make you feel worse. Let’s get you home,” said Alfred kindly.

“Thank you,” replied Arthur quietly, sincerely guilty. He hated himself for lying to someone who so obviously cared for him, but he couldn’t let it continue. Arthur knew that he was already too attached to Alfred as it was. If things went any further, he didn’t know if he’d be able to end things with Alfred after their third date, and then he’d have to admit that he’d been utterly, blatantly wrong about Alfred and perhaps all of Alfred’s friends as well.

“If you’re feeling better, do you wanna go next weekend?” Alfred asked as he began the drive back to Arthur’s house.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Friday at six,” he offered with a smile.

“Cool,” Alfred laughed. “So, your friends seem pretty cool. They’re funny.”

“I suppose, although most of their humor comes at the expense of someone else in the group.” Arthur said, thinking sourly upon the bet that had gotten him into this predicament to begin with.

“Yeah, but it’s obvious they don’t mean it. You guys seem like you all really care about each other. And I’m glad they like me, too.”

“They like you more than they like me,” Arthur joked, making Alfred laugh.

Once again, conversation flowed easily and Arthur was disappointed when they finally reached his home. Alfred parked the car and turned toward Arthur, smiling gently.

“I know we didn’t get to do what we planned, but I’m still glad I got to see you. I hope you feel better soon.” Said Alfred sweetly.

  
“Me too,” Arthur sighed, regretting his decision to cut their date short. “A-Actually—I know it’s not quite as exciting as the carnival, but I think I’m well enough to sit on the couch and watch a movie, if you’re interested…?” He asked, immediately cursing his complete lack of self-restraint.

Alfred brightened and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like fun! You sure, though? I don’t wanna keep you up when you should be getting rest.”

“I’m sure.”

Thus, Arthur spent another wonderful night with Alfred. This time, Alfred kept him close for the majority of the night, keeping an arm hooked around his waist as they watched the movie. Arthur was hesitant at first, but found himself giving into his desires quickly, resting his head against Alfred’s chest and cuddling up against him. Halfway through, the movie was paused and they began to talk, their conversation seeming endless. When Alfred finally realized the time and bid Arthur goodbye, Arthur sent him off with another passionate kiss that left him both hating himself and longing for more.

* * *

Once again, Arthur endured the taunts and jeers of his friends (and feigned pride when Elizaveta forked over twenty dollars despite the insurmountable guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach) when he returned to school on Monday. Alfred visited him every day during lunch that week and was even joined by Lovino Vargas, to Antonio’s pleasure, and Kiku Honda. Though Alfred never stayed with Arthur for the whole lunch period, it was obvious the two groups were slowly beginning to blend together thanks to Alfred’s efforts.

When Friday finally rolled around, Arthur was both eager and terrified for his date with Alfred. However, all of his fear vanished the second he hopped into the passenger seat of Alfred’s car, replaced by a careless happiness that couldn’t be restrained. For the rest of the night, Arthur thought nothing of his pride nor of the bet he had with his friends, instead directing all of his attention to the sunny blond at his side.

By the time eleven rolled around, Arthur was pressed between the side of Alfred’s car and the American’s body, kissing him hungrily.

“Hey, Arthur?” Alfred asked, his voice coming out in breathy pants as he spoke.

“Mhm?” Arthur asked, running his hands down Alfred’s arms and grinning up at him, their foreheads pressed together.

“I really like you,” Alfred murmured.

Arthur paused momentarily, suddenly recalling the bet. Guilt immediately pooled in his gut and he was about to feign illness again, but then Alfred was taking his hand and kissing the corner of his mouth.

“And my moms and Mattie are spending the night at my aunt’s place tonight, so…”

Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. He was no stranger to sex, that much was certain—but he’d never slept with someone as amazing as he already knew Alfred was. Once again forgetting all of his guilt, Arthur nodded and tugged Alfred closer, kissing him passionately. “Then let’s go back to your place,” he purred.

Alfred grinned and stepped back, allowing Arthur to walk around the car and to the passenger’s side. The ride back home was quick, and then Alfred was leading Arthur upstairs to his bedroom. They fell upon his bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing each other hotly. Before long, Arthur was bare underneath Alfred, moaning against his skin, whimpering and nodding when Alfred hesitantly asked, “is this okay?” His hands found Alfred’s back and gripped him tightly, pain dissolving into euphoric pleasure.

After they’d thoroughly exhausted themselves, Alfred fell down beside Arthur and tugged him closer. “Arthur…” He trailed off momentarily. “I don’t want you to think I’m one of those people who sleeps with someone and then never talks to them again.”

Arthur shook his head. “I know you aren’t,” he panted. “I have been in the past, but it’s not like that now. I… I like you too, Alfred.”

Alfred smiled and kissed Arthur gently on the lips. “Can you stay the night?”

“Mhm.” Arthur replied happily, cuddling closer to Alfred and closing his eyes.

When Arthur woke up in the morning, it was to Alfred shifting beside him. Arthur opened his eyes, green meeting gorgeous blue, and Alfred smiled softly.

“Want me to make some breakfast?” Alfred asked softly.

“God, is food all you think about?” Arthur teased with a wry smile.

Alfred laughed and slipped out of bed, taking a pair of boxer shorts from a drawer. Arthur admired the view of Alfred’s fantastic arse and toned, muscular body as the American dressed himself in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a t-shirt. When Alfred turned around and raised a teasing brow, Arthur could only laugh and roll his eyes.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Alfred said, “you get dressed. Shower’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Arthur answered, slipping out of bed and walking through the aforementioned door.

After breakfast, Alfred convinced Arthur to watch another movie with him. After that, Arthur treated them both to lunch at a cafe in town, and then Alfred reluctantly dropped Arthur off at home.

“See you tomorrow,” Alfred said happily.

“Mhm, see you then,” Arthur answered back, leaving with a small peck to Alfred’s lips.

As Alfred pulled out of his driveway, Arthur’s heart sank. The bet was over—tomorrow, he’d get his money and be expected to break things off with Alfred. He walked back into his house and flopped down upon his couch, vowing to suck it up and admit that he liked Alfred.

* * *

When Arthur finally found Gilbert, the man was in the science lab working on a project.

“Hey,” Arthur greeted simply, his pale hands shoved into the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“Hey, Artie. How was date number three?” Gilbert asked, grinning as he lifted a test tube full of red liquid up and stared intently at it for a moment before setting back on a rack with other test tubes.

“It was… Er, it was fine,” said Arthur awkwardly, grimacing. “Actually, I wanted to—”

“Damn, man, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it!” Gilbert interrupted, shaking his head in a jokingly disapproving manner, a grin stuck upon his pale face. “Francis owes you money, I guess. What about my part, though? Did you get him to say that he liked you?”

“I-I did, yes, but—”

“Damn, maybe you have more game than I thought. I’ll get your twenty to you at lunch. When are you planning on breaking it off with him?”

Arthur’s eye twitched, annoyed at the continuous interruptions by the other boy. “I’m trying to tell you that—”

“Breaking it off?” Came a sudden, familiar voice from the doorway.

Arthur whipped around, mouth falling open in shock at the sight of Alfred in the doorway. The American was staring at him with his blue eyes widened and hurt obvious in them, his mouth turned downward in a frown that was so very unlike him. He looked so positively upset, so far from his usual sunny self, that Arthur felt as if he’d just taken a knife to the gut. To know that it was he who had caused the pain currently blanketing Alfred’s face only twisted the blade deeper into him, and his mouth worked uselessly for a moment.

“A-Alfred, I-I…” Arthur floundered, entirely unsure of what to say. He looked back to Gilbert, but his friend was frozen in place looking equally as shocked as he was.

“What the hell is this, Arthur? Were you—did you bet money on us getting together?!” Cried Alfred, brows furrowing with anger.

“I—I can explain, really. It was stupid, and I was coming here to explain that I wanted to call off the bet!”

“Really? Because it sounded like you were trying to collect your payment,” Alfred spat sarcastically. “How much money did you make off of me, huh? Did you bet on each individual date, or just getting to the third one?” Alfred questioned angrily. When Arthur looked down guiltily, he scoffed. “God, of course you fucking did. So you’ve already made money off of me twice!”

“Alfred, please, it isn’t like that anymore,” Arthur said.

“What made you change your mind, then? Obviously it wasn’t the first or the second—oh, right, so it must’ve been when you were getting into my fucking pants!” Alfred laughed humorlessly.

“Ho-ly shit, you two slept together?” Gilbert asked, wide-eyed as he looked between the pair.

“How much money are you gonna make for that, huh? Did you bet on how fucking big I was, too?” Demanded Alfred bitterly, and Arthur noticed the glassy, wet look of his eyes.

“Alfred, I swear I didn’t intend for it to end up like this. When all this first started I had no idea that I would end up being so fond of you! I thought you were—”

“Let me guess,” Alfred interrupted. “You thought I was some stupid, arrogant jerk who you could toy with for your own personal amusement, without even bothering to get to know me at all. Thanks, but I really don’t need an explanation.” With that, Alfred turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Arthur jerked into action, dashing out of the room. Alfred was walking quickly down the hallway toward the gym, and Arthur had to run to keep up with him.

“Alfred, wait!” Arthur cried, catching the American by his wrist.

Alfred pulled himself from Arthur’s grasp and continued, increasing his pace. “Fuck off.”

“Alfred, please, just let me explain!” Hollered Arthur, breaking into a full-on run until he was finally in front of Alfred, effectively cutting off his path.

Alfred stalled in the hallway and fixed his angry blue eyes upon Arthur, the beginnings of tears in the corners of them. He folded his arms across his chest and frowned harshly. “You have thirty seconds.”

Arthur gulped, floundering under the American’s harsh gaze. His current angry demeanor was so unlike his usual happy-go-lucky self, and the Brit almost couldn’t take the guilt he felt at having hurt Alfred so much.

“Alright,” Arthur began, taking a deep breath in. “I did make a bet that I could get you to go out with me, and I admit that was wrong! And yes, I bet that I get you to go on three dates with me and admit that you liked me, and that was even more wrong! But I never, never bet that I could get you to sleep with me, nor would I have ever. And yes, I admit that I had some misconceptions about you, and spoke unkindly about you, but I regret it! I regret it so much, Alfred, and if I could go back and change it I would. If I had any idea the kind of smart, amazing person you were, I would have never been so harsh.”

Alfred scowled. He wasn’t saying anything, but the crease of his brows had softened a bit and his arms fell limp at his sides.

Arthur continued, “You opened my eyes, Alfred. It was so, so wrong of me to judge you without knowing you—or anyone for that matter. And because of you, I was able to look at myself critically and realize that the way I thought about other people—and treated them as a result—was hurtful. I-I understand that what I did was wrong, but I meant what I said. I… I really like you, Alfred. And I don’t want you to leave when we’re just getting to know each other.”

Alfred’s face softened even further and he wiped the tears from his eyes. “…How much money did you make off of me?”

Arthur’s face fell, knowing then that Alfred couldn’t let it go. Deciding it was best to be honest, he looked guiltily to the floor. “…Eighty dollars total.”

“Then you’re buying dinner next weekend.” Alfred said.

Arthur looked up, surprised to find that Alfred was smiling down at him. “R-Really?” The Brit asked, eyes quickly filling with tears of relief at the sight of the happy smile he’d come to adore so much.

“Mhm. Wherever I want.”

“Oh, God. Don’t you dare say McDonalds,” Arthur groaned, heart fluttering when Alfred slipped an arm across his shoulders and turned them around, steering them in the direction of the lunch room.

Alfred laughed loudly. “Wherever I want,” he repeated, and Arthur could only laugh cheerfully in response.

“Alright, alright, wherever you want. But just this once.”

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to my writing blog @afjakwrites on tumblr.


End file.
